


3. temperature play

by fall_into_life



Series: Ice Queen Weiss [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Other, Safer Sex, Sex Toys, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 08:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16489073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fall_into_life/pseuds/fall_into_life
Summary: Chapter One: Weiss Schnee, Ice Queen of Atlas, entertains Lord Belladonna of Vacuo. Her vassals would not approve of the shape this entertainment takes.Chapter Two: Queen's Champion Winter Schnee and her wife Yang Schnee likewise entertain Lady Pyrrha Nikos, with similar results.Both were written for Kinktober prompt 3: temperature play. Yes, I'm aware it's November.





	1. Chapter 1

Historians and storytellers alike later note that the Lord Belladonna spent a suspicious amount of time in Atlas after that Midwinter Ball, and that Queen Schnee spent a suspicious amount of time outside of the castle. The truth of the matter is that no one suspected anything; four people knew exactly what was going on, and no one outside of that circle batted an eyelash. Lord Belladonna and Queen Schnee were both known for strange whims, and this was merely thought to be one of them. 

Of course, the Queen of Atlas could not simply leave the castle environs without an escort, and so the Queen's Champion and her wife often escorted their monarch. If these visits happened to coincide with when Lady Nikos visited Atlas, all the better. The guards always seemed to enjoy the resultant spars, at the least. 

Naturally, the Queen has the choicest of accommodations wherever she may travel, and those with the strongest magical defenses. Just as naturally, they are hardly adequate to keep out someone of Blake Belladonna’s skill. 

“Here for another assassination attempt?” Weiss marks her place in the book on her lap, setting it to the side. 

“If I were,” Blake says, “your vassal's wards would not have stopped me.”

Tonight holds far less formality than their first meeting; Weiss’ travel clothes are just as fine a make as anything she owns but far simpler, and Blake wears only a robe in the style of their homelands. It doesn't stop either of their gazes from traveling, nor does it halt the memories of what lies beneath cloth. 

“Does it amuse you to impugn Atlesian security?” Weiss tilts her head, the hint of laughter in her voice. 

“Yes.”

Weiss smiles, surprising herself with the expression. They have corresponded since Midwinter, short messages delayed by distance and the occasional loss of a communications tower. Blake has a cautious, twisting way to their communications that Weiss found herself enjoying. Midwinter was an indulgence, a night of pleasure she had not truly expected to repeat. Yet, when Blake mentioned plans to travel to Atlas’ southern shores, Weiss found herself mirroring them, wondering if another night were possible. 

Blake steps forward, until they stand in front of Weiss’ chair. “And if I were here to lay hands upon the Queen once more?” 

Their eyes meet and hold, layers peeling back until only the thinnest veneer of mortality remains. Weiss reaches forward, fingers untying the belt to Blake's robe. “The Queen would prefer to put her hands upon you.”

Firm hands pull Blake forward, and they settle their thighs on either side of Weiss’ hips. Her touch quests in further, past cloth and to the skin below. She relearns the shape of muscle, of scars, of bone. Blake's head tilts back, and their hips begin to move in a slow rhythm. 

“Loathe as I am to move you,” Weiss murmurs, “if we're to continue, I'll require a barrier.”

Blake reaches inside a pocket, pressing a condom into Weiss’ waiting hand.

“Confident?” She asks, tearing open the film and moving aside Blake's clothes to expose their waiting sex.

“Prepared,” Blake counters. “Had you preferred conversation to coupling, you need never have known the contents of my pockets.”

“Conversation after pleasure,” Weiss says, beginning to stroke them.

Their body moves with Weiss’ touches, smooth motions underlying the teeth sunk into their lower lip. She keeps her grip steady, her technique simple; if the messages leading to this point are any indication, they have all night for coupling. This is merely the first blush. 

Before long, Blake exhales a long sigh, their hips stuttering to a halt. Weiss hums her approval, throwing the barrier into the wastebasket and smoothing her palms over Blake's hips. When their eyes open again, there is far less caution in them. They both know the compact they've forged by sharing pleasure tonight.

Calloused fingers stroke Weiss’ cheek, thumb brushing her scar in a silent question. She leans into the touch, pressing her mouth against the inside of their wrist.

“That,” she murmurs against their skin, allowing inhuman power to glitter in her eyes, “is the blow for which my sister and I killed our father.”

Blake sucks in a breath, and for a moment Weiss regrets. She thought she had found a kindred spirit, one who understood what it meant to step beyond the clumsy fumbling of most mages. Then hot, dark hunger twists in Blake's eyes, and Weiss’ breath catches in her chest.

“Show me to the bedroom,” Blake demands, “that I may pleasure you properly.”

Weiss stands, Blake catching their balance easily, and pulls them down, mouths crashing together. 

“You are the only person I have ever met,” Weiss growls, stripping the robe from their shoulders before stepping towards the bedroom, “who finds my magics arousing rather than terrifying.”

Blake's mouth chases hers, pushing her up against the door in a hard press of skin. Her clothes quickly find themselves on the floor, in more pieces than when she donned them this morning. 

“Power is arousing,” Blake says, twisting the doorknob and moving them both over the threshold, “I have wanted to swallow yours down since the moment I felt it.”

Weiss sits on the edge of the bed, reaching for the barriers she made sure to stock in the nightstand. Blake moves to join her, but Weiss dares to stop them, spreading her legs. 

“Swallow me down,” she says, resting a dental dam on her thigh, “and I will show you what I can of power.”

Blake sinks to their knees.

Weiss cups the back of their head, slowly rocking into their clever tongue. Strong hands keep her knees spread. She closes her eyes, relaxing into the unfolding pleasure of an attentive mouth. 

She peaks with their name on her tongue, very nearly a prayer. They rise, golden eyes intent. Weiss pulls them onto the bed.

There’s a forbidden thrill to coupling in the home of one of her vassals, to having a liaison her subjects would hardly approve of. So little in Weiss’ life has been entirely for her own sake, her own pleasure. This is entirely that, and it makes her head swim.

Her mouth maps the inside of Blake’s knee, the expanse of their thigh. Fingers slide into her hair, careful but present, and Weiss hums approval. She skims upward to the crease of their hip, over their ribs, up to the very border of their binder, before moving to straddle their hips, sitting up.

Magic flows at her call, following the path of her fingers over Blake’s skin. Delicate lattices form over skin, starbursts and fractals of ice. She outlines bone and muscle both with patterns that begin to melt as soon as they are formed, then leans down to chase chill with the heat of her breath. Beneath her, Blake breathes out heavy, their hands fisting in the sheets. Weiss moves back down to their hip, coating the jut of it in shimmering cold, then swallowing the ice down.

Their sex waits for her, having hardened again while she took her pleasure. She slides a condom down upon it, breathes out hot over the shaft, then follows it with a breath of ice. Blake hisses out a curse, hips twitching upward, and Weiss chuckles. She swallows them back down, working her throat. 

Weiss alternates hot breaths and cold ones, satisfaction curling in her gut at every gasp, every suppressed curse. It's a heady kind of power, using her tools of war instead for pleasure, with the mutual knowledge that she could kill them with less than a thought. When they peak beneath her, it takes only a twist of her fingers between her legs before she follows them over the edge.

“I almost regret I cannot show you the same,” Blake says, when they've both recovered enough to lay facing one another. 

“You will,” Weiss says, confident, “only on the training field instead of in the bedroom.”

“One day, I will.”

“I will hold you to that promise.”

Blake's smile in return promises that and more. “I am sure of it.”

They do not quite couple until the dawn, but if the night watchman were more skilled, he would have seen Lord Belladonna’s shadow leaving the Queen's quarters at an unseemly time. As he was not, they returned to their accommodations without incident, already planning their return.


	2. Chapter 2

In a slightly less lavish part of the manor from where the Queen of Atlas entertains Lord Belladonna of Vacuo, the Ice Queen's champion and her wife also entertain Lady Nikos of Mistral, with similar results. 

“Ah, Yang,” Pyrrha lays her hand on the back of Yang's head, panting. “Good. Very good.”

Pyrrha lays on her back without a strip of clothing to be seen. Yang's mouth works between her legs, at the same time as Winter pushes into her from behind. Every time Pyrrha manages to open her eyes and see them moving together, it pushes her a little higher.

Winter considerately keeps a rhythm that allows Yang to continue her work uninterrupted, but as soon as Pyrrha shudders and pushes Yang's head away, Winter slams into her. As she recovers, Pyrrha catches pieces of Yang's swearing and moaning, her whines as Winter makes the bed shake. The wooden bedframe rattles one last time as Winter crashes to a halt, panting. 

They're both flushed and beautiful. Little rivulets of sweat trace the muscle of Yang's back, and red colors Winter's body from neck to hips. Reddened crescents shine from every place Winter's blunted nails dug into Yang's hips or back, and a bitemark has already started to darken on Winter's ribs. That may or may not be from Pyrrha; she certainly remembers being in a position to leave it while Yang's fingers worked inside her, but she has no recollection of doing it. Winter doesn't seem to be complaining.

Yang kisses the inside of Pyrrha's thigh, affectionate the way Pyrrha suspects she always is after she's orgasmed. Winter mirrors the motion on the small of Yang's back, removing herself from her wife's body. “I will return.”

Pyrrha pulls Yang up to lie next to her, tucking the younger woman under her chin the way she's seen Winter do. Yang practically purrs, her arms coming to wrap around Pyrrha's waist. She's far more animated than after the first time Pyrrha saw her orgasm, thumb pressing back and forth along Pyrrha's skin, and her restless mouth pressing kisses into her neck.

“You're so warm,” Pyrrha murmurs, once her head has cleared a little. She knew Yang was a fire mage and that elemental mages tended to reflect their element, but the other woman radiates more heat than expected.

Yang laughs. “I can turn it down, if you want.”

Pyrrha shakes her head. “It's good. I like it.”

Winter slides back into the bed behind her, markedly cooler, and Pyrrha hums. “I like that, too.”

Cool fingers trace over her hip, just under one of Yang's arms. “How do you feel about a more… _distinct_ temperature difference.” Winter cools a little further, and Pyrrha shivers.

“I'd like that.”

As soon as she speaks, Yang's heat spikes, and Winter's plummets. It's like standing in front of a roaring fireplace with a window open to the freezing outdoors at her back. Pyrrha was unaware she found that arousing, but now she can think of little else. 

Yang chuckles, her lips on Pyrrha's jaw getting bolder. Winter, not having taken off the sex toy from earlier, begins to rock against her. Pyrrha moans, pulling them both closer. This is far from the first time she's taken multiple sexual partners in one bed, but she can't deny that the two of them fit against her far better than any previous lovers. Winter's shaft presses against her ass at the same pace Yang's mouth moves down to her collarbone, and already Pyrrha's thoughts begin to blur again.

“Inside,” Pyrrha demands, reaching back to curl a hand around Winter's hip. “Winter--” 

Winter pulls back - presumably to put a condom over the toy - and when she returns, she pushes a slick shaft between Pyrrha's legs, rubbing over her clit. Yang drags nails down her back at the same time Winter's teeth touch her shoulder, and Pyrrha is only vaguely aware of repeating her request.

The toy slides inside her in little pushes, filling her. For a moment, they both let her breathe. Then, somehow, the toy itself drops in temperature, and Pyrrha can't help but cry out. 

The two of them destroy her. Winter fucks her hard with the toy, a cold weight dragging against her heated insides, and Yang's mouth travels everywhere it can reach, fever hot fingers working between Pyrrha's legs. Pyrrha grips the back of Yang's neck, lets her own head fall back against Winter's shoulder, and loses track of the flow of her pleasure.

She's aware that Winter fucks her through a shuddering orgasm of her own, that Yang grinds her center against Pyrrha's thigh. She murmurs encouragement through her haze, and when the three of them finally stop, she's fairly certain they're all well satisfied.

There's a moment, when they're cleaning up and everyone's body temperatures return to normal, that Pyrrha's unguarded thoughts contemplate what it would be like to have this more regularly. It's only the third time they've come together this way, but she thinks she would enjoy more instances of this kind of companionship. The two of them have bright, sharp minds, and eagerly participate in the martial foreplay Pyrrha loves. She's not sure she quite wants romance from them, but the friendship and casual sex are more than good enough for her to visit Atlas more often. 

“You're welcome to stay,” Winter murmurs, resting a hand on Pyrrha's shoulderblade. 

Pyrrha smiles, and sinks into their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second and final chapter of this piece. If you want more in this universe, please subscribe to the Ice Queen Weiss series.


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